


Something Short of Paradise

by CarryV



Category: Tim Curry - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Tim Curry - Freeform, fanship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarryV/pseuds/CarryV
Summary: Carry meets Tim at a local fan convention and the two connect instantly. Please note: This story takes place in the present times, but Tim is younger. Early 2000s look in his 50s. Think of his character in Bloodmoon/Wolf Girl.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

It’s about 9am and I’m standing in a very crowded line in a very crowded convention center. I’ve been up primping since around 5:30am. Thankfully I’m staying at the hotel attached to the convention center. I’m wearing a short black dress with red corset laces on the front of the bodice. Fishnet stockings and rocking black pumps, light make up and jewelry complete the look. I’m at Galexycon. I’ve never been to a large convention like this before, but this year is different. This year, HE is here. The one and only legendary Tim Curry. I’ve been ridiculed for how much money I’ve spent preparing for this. Even just for this meet and greet I dropped a good $300, not to mention tickets for the convention itself, my outfit and getting my hair cut/dyed and my nails done. As it gets closer and closer to 10am, my anxiety grows. Other people in the line are chatting away, meanwhile I’m standing here fidgeting and trying my best not to let my nerves get the best of me. I clench my purse and fiddle with the envelope tucked in the front pocket. The envelope contains a short fan letter for him. I will only have about three minutes with him during this meet and greet, and I know I’m bound to get flustered and say something stupid and nothing that I actually want to say, so I figured giving him a letter to read later is a good Plan B.

Shortly after 10am the line finally starts to move. I got here early so I’m within the first 10 people, so it shouldn’t be long now. I stand there fixated at the black curtained booth ahead of me. I idly wonder what he’s wearing. Will he be clean shaven, or will he have his trademark goatee? My mind wanders through various thoughts.

“Next. ……… NEXT! Hey, you’re next!” I hear and snap back to reality. The line attendant is standing there staring at me and motioning for me to step up. I take a deep breath, clutch my purse strap and take a step forward. I walk around the curtain and look up just in time for him to look my direction and our eyes lock. He’s dressed very casually in jeans and a black shirt. His lips, framed by that perfect goatee I’ve come to love, quirk into a welcoming smile. He extends his hand to me as I get a little closer to him. I reach my hand out to meet with his and it’s about that time I trip on my heels and fall forward slightly. He quickly reaches out to steady me and I put my hands on his arms for balance.

“Whoa there, are you alright?” He asks. I look up into his eyes and am suddenly frozen. We look at each other for a moment and I finally come to my senses and straighten myself, blushing.

“Yes, sorry about that Mr. Curry. I obviously don’t wear heels often.” I murmur. He chuckles and shakes his head a little.

“It’s alright, really. And please, call me Tim. I don’t need Mr. to make me feel older. What’s your name?”

“Carry.” I say and tuck a piece of hair from out of my face behind my ear.

“Hello Carry, nice to meet you. Thank you for coming to the convention this weekend. Are you having fun?”

“This is my first day actually. I couldn’t come Thursday or Friday because I had to work. I was only able to get today and tomorrow off. I have to say, this is a strong start to the weekend though. You’re actually the only reason I decided to come to the convention this year.” I confess, and then suddenly feel dumb. His face turns a little pink… is he actually blushing? Surely not. I can’t be the only one that is here just for him.

“Well that’s very nice to hear, Carry. Did you have to travel far?”

“No, I live here actually.” And then there’s an awkward pause. Come on Carry, say something else. You have a whole list of questions you’ve been planning for months, just pick one! “So…” I start “… how do you like Raleigh?” …. Smooth.

“I like it very much. It’s a beautiful city. I wish I was able to see more of it while I’m here. What do you do for work?”

“Currently I work as a receptionist for a local animal hospital, but I also freelance theatre work.”

“You do theatre?”

“Yes sir, I majored in theatre education at Appalachian State. Finding teaching work in this state for theatre is hard, so I just freelance stage management and directing gigs when I can, and I house manage for one of the local professional companies.”

“You… you went to Appalachian State for theatre?”

“Yes sir, and Creative Writing. Best 7 years of my life.”

“Interesting…” he mutters to himself. His eyes almost glass over slightly as he seems to search for a memory or something in his mind. Then his pupils grow larger and he looks back at me and smiles. “You said you did creative writing in college as well, is that correct?”

Where is he going with this? “Yes sir, I went back to school after my theatre degree and turned my English minor into a second major.”

“I seem to remember…” he starts, looks at the photographer and his agent who are also in the booth with us, and remembering we aren’t alone, pulls me closer and continues in a whisper with our backs slightly towards the others, “… I remember seeing a story online close to ten years ago. It was about a girl, with your name, who was a theatre major at Appalachian…. And me.” He smiles a knowing smile as my eyes grow large, my face turns beet red and then completely drains of color just as fast. My mouth goes dry, my heart races… though I’m unsure if it’s because I’ve been caught, or because of my physical closeness to him.

“Um….” Is all I can say. He chuckles a little.

“It’s really nothing to be embarrassed about. You write well. Tell me, do you still… write?”

“Not as much anymore. I get so busy with work it’s hard to find the time. I keep meaning to get more into it again, but ‘later’ never comes.”

“Pity.” He says simply.

“Excuse me, Mr. Curry. We need to keep the line moving.” The photographer says.

Tim sighs “Of course.” He says to the photographer. “That’s one thing I don’t like about meet and greets, sometimes three minutes just doesn’t seem like enough time.” He says to me. I bite my bottom lip slightly and ponder how cocky he seems to be, and how he probably says this to many of the people he meets at these types of things. We pose beside each other and he puts his arm around my back resting his hand on my hip. He uses that hand to pull me a bit closer. I awkwardly don’t know what to do with my hands. One arm goes around his back slightly and the other stays at my side petrified. They take our picture and I pull an envelope from my purse to hand him. His agent makes a go for it to add to his growing large pile of gifts he’s already received so early in the morning. Tim takes it from me himself and motions for his agent that it’s fine. She raises an eyebrow and then sits back down. Tim folds the envelope and places it in his back pocket.

“Wouldn’t want it to get lost in the pile so I can make sure to read it later.” He says with a quick wink. I idly wonder if he’s going to wait until I leave and then add it to the pile anyway. He probably does this with everyone to make them feel special. But for now, I’ll just believe he’s doing it for me and me alone. He lifts my hand, “It was nice to finally meet you, Carry. I hope you enjoy the rest of the convention and I hope to see you at the Rocky Horror shadow cast tonight. I’ll be there as the MC.”

“Yes, I plan to be there tonight. I look forward to it.”

“Well, until then.” He says and kisses my hand, winks and then lets me go. I stand there for a moment with my hand still slightly in the air. I come to my senses, put my arm down by my side.

“Yes sir, until then.” I say, smile and turn to leave. The printer for the pictures is just outside the exit door of the booth. I stand there waiting for it to print, and I glance into the exit door at him and I see him still looking at me. A small shiver runs down my spine. He gives me a tiny wave of his hand down by his side just as the next person in line walks in for their meet and greet. He briefly turns his attention to them for a greeting, but from the corner of his eye I see him look to me once more. I feel myself continuously blushing as I take the copy of our picture together and walk away. I immediately find one of the small bars on the sides of the convention center and order the largest glass of pinot noir they offer. I need something to try and steady my body’s shaking. My breath is still hitched in my throat a little. I take a hefty sip from the plastic cup and lean against the wall. What the hell was that? He’s read my old fan fic? I would never have pictured him the type to snoop on the internet for stories about himself. Maybe he just stumbled upon it? I finish my drink and decide to take a walk outside for some air. I had no idea that my meet and greet with him would affect me the way he has. I wander outside of the convention center and check out some of the food trucks, though I have absolutely no interest in food at the moment. A few dozen cosplayers are outside taking photos together. It’s a bright, sunny and blistering warm July day in North Carolina. I can’t stay outside too long because of the heat so I return inside and wander the convention’s various vender booths and tables trying to distract myself.

_“Well, until then.”_ I remember his words and they seem to hang in the air all around me, ringing in my ears. “Until then.” What does that even mean? I’ll see him there of course as he’ll be on stage, but it’s not likely he will ever see me. This is absurd. It meant nothing. He was just being nice, making me feel special for those three minutes I had with him. There’s nothing wrong with that. But still… _“Until then…”_ Indeed…


	2. Chapter 2

After an afternoon of sitting through various panels and watching cosplay contests, I decide to go to my hotel room for a quick rest before the Rocky Horror shadow cast performance. I still can’t seem to get this morning out of my head, but the more I think about it the more silly I feel. I take the picture out of the envelope and stare at it. It really is a very nice photo, even for me and I am not very photogenic at all. I touch his face in the picture, then his hand that’s on my hip. I smile, for a brief moment I was actually standing next to this man that I idolize so much, and not only that, but I got touch him as well as have a small conversation with him. Talk about a dream come true! I touch up my makeup and put my heels back on, time for round two.

I walk back into the convention center and get a glass of wine to drink while I stand in, yet another very long line, for the shadow cast performance. Once I finish that one, I ask the girl in front of me to hold my place in line and go to get another drink. Before going inside, I get one more. I try to find a nice seat as close to the stage as I can, but the crowd is large and the front areas get full quickly so I end up somewhere in the middle, but at least there’s a nice big aisle in front of my row. By the time I finish my drink I start to feel quite tipsy. The show begins as the cast comes out to get the crowd hyped up, and then introduce Tim as the MC. From behind the curtain, he walks out. I feel the now familiar hitch in my breath and lump in my throat. He makes small talk, interacts with members of the cast, and in what seems like a blink of an eye he disappears out a side door. Was that it? My heart sinks, he was just being nice before. There was no intention to see me later. _“Until then…”_ indeed. I try to immerse myself into the show. I absolutely love shadow cast performances. They have the movie playing on two large screens on either side of the stage in the middle. The actor playing Frank N Furter starts going over various “rules” and tells the crowd how the underwear run will work. I roll my eyes and giggle. The underwear run. I’ve never done it myself as I’ve always been too shy but it’s always good for a laugh. I slip out at one point to get just one more glass of wine, which I drink pretty quickly once I get back inside. I see Frank give the cue to the audience to head to the back of the room to prepare for the underwear run. I look around the room and a good number of people are heading to the back. The seductiveness of the wine takes effect.

“Fuck it.” I mutter, stand up, take my dress and heels off and march myself to the back of the room wearing nothing but my black bra, black lace panties and black fishnets. We all get ready and start running as a small mob through the large hall, being egged on by actors placed around the route to point our way. I pass by one of the side exits and I glance up as I jog by (because let’s face it, I don’t run. I run like turtles in peanut butter. But jog, sometimes I can do that) and through a crack in the door I see a pair of piercing green eyes fixated on me. It almost stops me in my tracks but I keep going for fear I’ll get run over by the people behind me. I eventually get back to my seat and pull my dress back over my head and put my heels back on. The rest of the show is so much fun! I gather my things at the end and get ready to exit the performance hall and head back up to my hotel room. It’s been a very long day and I’m so ready for my bed. I walk past the front curtain on my way out the door and I suddenly feel a hand on mine. I turn to see those same piercing green eyes from between a crack in the curtain and the hand pulls me into the darkness of the backstage area.

“We meet again.” Tim says once we’re completely out of sight. I’m completely caught off guard and to be honest, still a little tipsy from the wine. “Have fun at the show?”

“I did, thank you. Though I figured you would be involved a little more than just the first five or so minutes.”

“Yeah, so did I. I really wanted to be involved more but at least I got to watch it from the wings. I didn’t have to miss out on some of my favorite parts.” He says and raises an eyebrow. I blush. So it WAS him watching during the underwear run. Dirty old man.

“So what can I do for you, Mr. Curry?” I ask, realizing and fully intending my wording. He smirks and runs a finger over his lips slightly.

“I wondered if you would join me for a nightcap? I think there may be a bar or two still open in the area.”

“Or I have some Jameson in my room.” I blurt before my brain can filter it out. I bite my lip and look up at him embarrassed.

“Jameson? A woman of good taste. I’d love to.” He smiles.

We wait for the crowd to thin out more and we slip out to the convention center and then take a back way to the connecting hotel. We stand alone in the elevator and a moment from the first Fifty Shades book flits through my brain and I let out a tiny giggle. Tim looks at me with a raised eyebrow but then focuses his attention forwards again. The doors open and I peer into the hallway. All clear. We walk down the end of the hall, I slip the keycard in. The light turns green and I hear the click of the lock. I turn the light on as we walk inside.

“Would you like ginger ale and lime with your Jameson, or would you like it straight? I can do on the rocks too. I need to get some ice from down the hall for my drink anyway.”

“Straight is fine, thank you. You brought ginger ale and limes with you?” he asks, amused. I purse my lips a little.

“First world problem, I know, but this is my favorite cocktail and drinks here are very expensive. Hell I spent probably a good $75 in wine today at the convention.” I say as I pour his drink into one of the plastic hotel cups, hand it to him and then start making my drink. I grab the small ice bucket and walk down the hall to the small ice machine. The thought of Tim Curry… in my hotel room… stops me in my tracks halfway back to the room. Suddenly my nerves get the best of me. What does he want? Surely just some companionship? Maybe he really does just want a drink and some conversation. I take a deep breath and walk back into the room. I finish making my drink and sit in the chair opposite of him by the window.

“Cheers.” He says and we clink the plastic cups together and take sips of our drinks in silence. The cool mix of ginger, lime and delicious Irish whiskey enter my system and mingles with the still slightly present wine buzz. “So what are your plans for the convention tomorrow?” he asks to break the quiet of the room.

I shrug “Sleep in, just kind of wander around. Maybe check out a few Q&A sessions. Going for a casual day tomorrow. Jeans and t-shirt kind of day. You have more meet and greets tomorrow don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m in for another long day.” He takes another sip. “Conventions are so much fun, I wish I had more time to explore them and not be consumed with being at my booth all day. I do enjoy meeting my fans though. Taking pictures, answering questions… getting fan mail.” He says and pulls out my letter. “I felt I would give you the answer to your question in person.” I take another sip from my drink as he unfolds the paper and continues. “You asked how to keep up a passion for your arts work, even though you are tired from your ‘real job’. That’s really a multi-part answer. Part of me wants to say, if you aren’t passionate enough to keep going with it, then maybe find something you ARE passionate about, even after long days at the office. On the other hand, even I have days when I’m exhausted and don’t feel like I have energy for my craft.”

“When I first graduated after getting my second degree, I moved home and worked small part time jobs and even a full time job at a department store for a while. I always tried to put my art first. I made time. But now… I don’t know. Working at the hospital is so exhausting. I love it, but it’s exhausting, physically, emotionally, mentally. When I get home at night, sometimes I don’t even eat dinner. I take care of my own pets, and then go straight to bed. I still try to stage manage at least one show a season but I feel like I have no time or energy to do more than that, or to even write. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt inspired enough to write.”

He sighs and takes one last sip of his whiskey. “I completely understand that. I’m sorry you feel that way. I suppose my best advice at this point is, try to remember why you got into theatre and writing in the first place. What ignited your passion for the stage for the first time? What got you into writing? Remember that, and that should help rekindle your spark. What did get you interested in theatre anyway?”

“Les Miserables. I was in chorus in high school and my freshman year we sang a medley from it. I’d never even really heard of the show or knew what it was about, but I fell in love with the music and the story. The next year it was touring here to Raleigh and my mom took me to see it for the first time. Seeing that show live on stage made me think… that’s what I want to do. I want to do this forever, you know? I eventually decided that I wanted to teach theatre so I could hopefully inspire other young people to do the same thing. To have that love and desire for the craft. And for writing, I’ve always been a writer. In elementary school I won every writing award they had. Then I got to middle school and high school and realized I wasn’t as hot shit as I thought I was!” We both laugh. It feels good to laugh with him. I think the mix of alcohol and exhaustion is setting in. It’s close to 3am at this point, I’ve almost been awake a full 24 hours. Either way, I’m starting to feel more relaxed around him, not quite so tense. It’s… nice. I slip up and yawn into my laugh.

“Getting tired?” he says. I nod as I continue to yawn. He gets a look in his eyes like he’s searching for something in his mind. Like there is a conflict of some kind that he’s wrestling with. He looks at his watch. “It is getting late, I should go.” And at those words a pang of sadness hits me that I wasn’t expecting. I take a deep breath and a bold move.

“I’m not tired.” I say quickly. He smiles and places a hand on my knee.

“Yes, you are. To be honest, so am I. I’m not as young as I used to be by any means. Could I see you tomorrow? Maybe on my lunch break?”

My eyes grow large. “Really?”

“Of course. You’re great company to keep. We still have much to talk about before I leave town. My lunch break is usually around 1pm. Meet outside my booth and I’ll have my agent come get you.”

I nod “Yes, I can do that. Sounds like a plan to me! Should I bring lunch or what?”

“I’ll take care of those arrangements.”

I smile “Alright, sounds good.” We stand and I walk him to the door.

“Thank you for the wonderful conversation and for the drink. I look so forward to our lunch tomorrow.”

“You’re quite welcome and thank you so much for your time. I know it’s very valuable. I appreciate you spending time with me. See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, tomorrow. Until then…” there’s those words again. That promise hanging in the air between us. He lifts my hand, gives a brief kiss, a wink, and then he’s gone. I stand alone in my hotel room, by the door, holding the hand he just kissed in complete disbelief. What’s in store for tomorrow?


End file.
